


Creating The Perfect Warrior

by RaiderWolf



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2019-08-05 06:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16362425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaiderWolf/pseuds/RaiderWolf
Summary: Lorya, a young Altmer woman, is kidnapped by a rogue Thalmor agent and his guards in order to try to make a perfect warrior; an Altmer/Dremora hybrid. There’s only one way to get it though, and they force Lorya into the act with a summoned Dremora and force her to become pregnant with its child. Smarter than they thought, she escapes soon after and goes on the run, the need for higher magic pushing her to learn as fast as she can as she heads for Skyrim.





	1. Chapter 1

Lorya came awake in her dark, torch lit cell, still dazed by the poison that had been used to subdue her. She wasn’t immediately aware of the fact that she was not home in her bed until she tried to rise to her feet. It was when she realized that she was not on a bed that she was shocked fully awake. She glanced around her, taking in the gray walls and iron bars of her dark prison, before rising to her feet.

She was tall for a female high elf at six foot, but was long and lithe. Her chest had just filled out, giving her an hour glass figure with large thirty two ‘D’ breasts. Her skin tone was a little lighter than normal, giving her a lighter gold complexion, and her hair was a light golden brown. She didn’t much care for her darker hair color, often being the butt of many jokes as she grew up. Her eyes were a beautiful teal green, almost matching her silken dress.

“Hello, is anyone there?” she called out into the passage. As she neared the bars, she could see farther down the hall to realize she was in a dungeon of some sort. Regretfully, she was the only person in said dungeon. She pressed her face against the bars, finding she was able to see the other end of the hall and that it dead ended with a cell.

Relaxing against the bars, she waited for hours before the door opened. At first she was elated at seeing an Altmer in gilded armor come through the door, but it was the next figure through that dashed her hopes. A Thalmor wizard in his purplish robes entered the dungeon. The likelihood of them being her rescuers were slim, and she pressed herself against the bars to test the last shred of her hope.

“Help me, please!” she pleaded as the soldier and Thalmor looked at her. “I’ve been kidnapped!” If there was any sign of compassion or empathy, she might have whooped for joy, but the sneer that crossed the Thalmor agent backed her away from the cell’s bars.

“You most assuredly have,” he said, his voice not even rising in any indication of alarm. “You are a poor excuse for a test subject,” he continued, his voice rising in agitation as he studied her. “I wanted someone with a little more muscle for my great experiment.”

“Experiment,” she said, backing as far away from the cell doors as she could. “Experiment for what?”

“Once, while reading a rather ancient tome, I came across the mention of a man named Umaril the Unfeathered. Have you heard of him?” the Thalmor agent asked. Lorya shook her head no, but the Thalmor agent continued on. “He was a powerful being once, before he was killed. Some say he was half daedra, others that he was half-god. All that matters is he was so powerful, it took the Champion of Cyrodiil to kill him.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Lorya asked, making herself small against the wall.

“I want to see if it’s possible to create a Dremora hybrid, and for that I need you,” he said, smirking as he glanced at her voluptuous body. He fished something from under his robe, then tossed her a small pinkish bottle to land on the pallet of straw between them.

“And if I refuse?” she said, hoping to find some way out of this. She knew of the Dremora. They were Daedra summoned from the planes of Oblivion to serve temporarily as soldiers before the magicka used to bring them here ran out and they returned to Oblivion. As she understood it, they were beasts that somewhat resembled a man, but larger and more terrifying.

“That won’t be much of an issue,” he said, sticking his hand through the bars. Lorya saw the glow of a purple orb as he began a summoning a creature. She watched in horror as a large purple orb appeared in front of her and a Dremora appeared before her. It was massive, almost seven feet tall and in full armor. It’s wielded it’s weapon with both hands, and looked like it could cleave a man in two with one swing.

Lorya whimpered at seeing it, but the massive warrior looked around before looking back at its summoner, sheathing it’s weapon on its back. “Mate her,” the Thalmor agent said, and the Dremora looked back at Lorya and sneered.

“She is weak, mortal,” he said, his voice deep and resonating almost as if two people were speaking at the same time. “She is not fit for a mate.” Lorya looked hopeful for a moment. Would she be spared simply because she wasn’t perfect?

“Do it anyway,” the mage said through gritted teeth. Lorya’s eyes were locked on the Dremora’s, hope leaving her face as the Dramora unsnapped his chest armor and it fell to the floor with a clang.

The ring of it’s Daedric armor caused her to start whimpering as she slid into a corner to try to get away from it. With her eyes locked on his, she didn’t see him remove his greaves or boots, or even as it slipped its gloves off. She watched him as he came closer, felt as his hands gripped the collar of her dress around her neck. With the sound of ripping fabric, the summoned Dremora stripped her of her dress in one quick motion, her body now only covered by her undergarments.

Whimpering, and trying to use her arms to cover her body, the Dremora threw her into the center of the room. She landed, arms and legs splayed out in various directions so that she was looking back at the mage and his guard. The Dremora knelt down, his hands ripping her bra from her chest as Lorya cried into the straw underneath her. Burying her face in the rough straw, she felt the last piece of clothing, her panties, get ripped off and thrown away.

“Well, get to it,” she heard the mage say as the Dremora shifted position over her. “You’ve only got so long before my spell runs out.”

Tears streamed down Lorya’s face as she felt the Dremora’s manhood against her ass. She expected to be flipped over before he entered her, but as he settled over her, he suddenly shoved into her sex. She cried out in pain as his massive manhood violated her, his large weight pressing her deep into the straw she lay on and causing the stems to press into her sensitive flesh.

When it seemed like her body wouldn’t allow the beast above her any deeper into her womanhood, it stopped hovering there for one moment before she felt it start to remove itself, pulling all the way back to where just the tip of his large manhood remained inside of her. She briefly wondered if that was it before it shoved itself even deeper inside her, her scream catching in her throat as the pain so consumed her that she couldn’t even breathe.

As before the beast started to remove itself, before plunging once again into her delicate channel. This time, she could feel the hairs around its manhood against her delicate sex. When it began to pull out of her, it didn’t pull itself so far, only a few finger widths before plunging back into her and already pulling itself back out before she could scream again. It finally settled into her brain that it couldn’t go any deeper into her, and it was now trying to plant its seed into her.

She tried to kick or buck against it, but the heavy weight of the Dremora kept her pinned to the floor. It laughed at her feeble efforts to fight, his pistoning manhood never stopping or slowing down. She finally quit trying to fight, and simply cried while she was being violated. Her delicate sex hurt as it stretched around his large manhood.

Soon, the Dremora was grasping at her shoulders, grunting from exertion. It’s hands were rough on her body, feeling like rough stone as it used it’s strength to slam itself harder and deeper into her. Soon, it seemed as if her body wouldn’t allow it to burrow any deeper into her as it seemed to hit something inside her, something delicate that with each thrust made her cry out in pain as his manhood shoved itself against it.

Finally, with one last hard shove, the Dremora broke past her barrier. She screamed as its manhood went even deeper into her delicate channel. Then with a grunt, it pulled itself almost all the way out before collapsing on top of her and coated her womb with its fiery seed. She collapsed under his great weight, tears flowing from her eyes. She felt the Dremora’s weight vanish, but was in too much pain from its intrusion to think about getting up.

“Well, it’s nice to know that at least this part of the experiment will go without a hitch,” the mage said. Lorya refused to look at her tormentors, even as she heard the clank of the door as it opened. She was briefly able to see the guard in his gilded armor as he collected her ruined clothes before stepping out of her vision. She again heard the clank of the door as it closed, the snap of the lock as it sealed her in.

Lorya didn’t care for that. She could feel the beast’s seed as it slid down her channel, the fire somehow soothing her aching womanhood. She lay there, crying in shame at being treated this way. She was a high elf, expected to breed true to another high elf and keep their bloodline pure as they had for ages. It was what was expected of her.

One thing clicked into her mind very clearly. The Dominion must not know that one of their agents was kidnapping girls in an attempt to pollute the bloodline. It was the only hope that allowed her to keep drawing breath. She could feel the mage’s eyes as she was watched, but she didn’t care. She refused to carry a beast’s child.

She’d find a way out. She had to.


	2. Chapter 2

~Months later~

  


She sat in her cell, dressed now in a sort of dress like tunic which was all she was allowed to protect her modesty, while she shot a jet of flame from her hand as a distraction to pass the time. After the initial attack, they had given her simple ragged looking tunic to wear to keep her warm. The guards came several times a day, mostly to bring her food and collect the dirty dishes. Their first trip though, they’d collect the bucket she used for a toilet so that it might be dumped, bringing her a fresh bucket and a bucket of water to drink from.

After that, she was forced to sit, or stand, and stare out the bars into the hall beyond her cell. There wasn’t any light here that wasn’t made by torches which made the telling of time impossible. If it were meant to break her spirit, it was doing a good job of it, because she was gradually losing hope that she’d ever escape.

As her magicka supply exhausted, she let the flames go and felt her reserves rebuild themselves. It was the one thing she could do, as both a high elf and student of the arcane arts, to pass the time. She only knew three spells, having only just begun her study. She could shoot a jet of flames from her hand, cast a healing charm on herself to heal herself of injury, and an illusory charm that would guide her to any place she could conceive of. The only problem with the last one, was the path out simply led her to the cell’s door, and it offered no way through the steel bars.

She heard the sound of the guard’s metal clad foot falls on the stone, and steeled herself. Though she was without real light, the only way to keep track of the days was by keeping track of when they changed her slop bucket. After every seventh changing, the mage came at the time of her midday feeding and cast a spell to see if she were pregnant yet. If she wasn’t, he’d conjure a Dremora and have it rape her, not leaving until after the Dremora had disappeared and took his armor and weapons with it.

She also knew, thanks to her delicate sex, that not all Dremora were identical. Some, like the first one she had been forced to mate with, were long enough that they would pierce her womb while most others couldn’t. She didn’t know if that meant anything about getting pregnant, but as her last forced lover hadn’t pierced her womb, she doubted she was pregnant.

Sure enough, as the door opened and the guard she knew to be Pelnaro in his gilded armor stepped through along with one of the other of the Aldmeri Dominion soldiers. There seemed to be a steady stream of differing faces, more than she could remember, so she was probably sitting on a battalion of troops. The news alone that there were more soldiers than a mere handful had robbed her of any hope of escape, but after the second time she was raped, knew better than to not stand at the bars. The only surprising thing was that Runelde, the Thalmor mage who would normally step through the doors to check to see if she was pregnant never materialized.

“Out of your cell, prisoner,” Pelnaro said, moving to unlock the cell door. He had no more put his bare hand on the door when he jerked it back and uttered some choice curse words. When he turned to face Lorya with a snarl, she just smiled at the man’s rage. She knew she would likely be punished, but at this point, she didn’t really care if they beat her because nothing was worse than being forced to mate.

“Think this is funny, do you?” he snarled as he cast a healing spell on himself. Once his hand was healed, Pelnaro drew his sword as he unlocked the cell and used his blade to open the overly warm metal. “How many times have we told you that magical flame doesn’t carry the heat to melt steel bars?”

“Student, remember,” Lorya said as sarcastically as possible. “And I’m a slow learner. I may never learn.”

Pelnaro entered her cell and poked at her with a sword. “If it weren’t that Runelde needed you intact today, I’d cut one of your hands off for your constant mouth.”

“And I'm the broodmare that he’s going to use to make his perfect little soldier with,” she snarked back. “We both know that you can’t hurt me without angering Runelde, so just lead me where you want me and leave me alone. Because if you don’t, I have nothing to lose by using both hands to blast that pretty little face with fire next time you come for me.”

She could see the war in his eyes as they stood there, before he stepped back and waved her forward with his sword. She marched forward, following the other guard as they led her deeper into the fortress. She tried to keep track of where she was being led, but the trackless halls proved difficult for her to follow.

Within minutes, the guards led her into a large laboratory where the walls were filled with shelves full of magical tomes. At the rear of the room, where Runelde stood with a much older Elven man who had a Dremora standing guard behind him and a large torture table leaned against the wall. The guard led her to the men, where Pelnaro kept her at sword point.

“She certainly is a poor specimen in regards to warfare,” the other man said, as he looked at her. He moved around her, moving her limbs as he inspected her and then cast a spell when he came to stand in front of her.

“Well, Runelde,” he said, smirking as he finally stood tall in front of her. “You have made a common mistake in magical studies. You meddle in things you do not understand.”

“I understand full well the significance of my studies, Tundil,” the younger mage snarled back.

“Then you would not have made such a simple blunder,” the older mage said calmly. “You failed to take into account that we are not so easily bred. Ever wonder why there is no abundance of children running around though the first century of our life we are so, promiscuous? You must remember Runelde, we aren’t a fecund species like the Nords or Imperials. All one must do with them is wait for the right time of the month.”

“What are you saying? That she can’t bare children?” Runelde raged back. Lorya was half amused by their banter, briefly wondering if she might be released in all this. She watched as the elder mage turned to his younger counterpart with a smug look on his face.

“She can,” he said, and Lorya felt her heart sink into her feet. “But their wombs aren’t overly fertile. Without magical help, of course,” he said, pulling a small pinkish vial from a pocket. Lorya was just beginning to hate magic when Runelde finally started to smile. “Once you told me of your problems, I made this to deal with it.”

“How much?” Runelde asked, extending his hand for the battle.

“You know I don’t deal in something so vulgar as gold,” Tundil said, smiling wickedly as he extended the vial. “You may, however, use your guards to bring me some subjects for my own magical experiments.”

“Done,” Runelde said and Tundil handed over the vial, his mood much more agreeable as he studied the vials contents. “Would you like to stay and watch or do you have pressing business to tend to?”

“Oh, not only am I interested in watching,” the older mage said, smiling as he turned back to a teary eyed Lorya. “But I am willing to lend this experiment my Valkynaz. You will find him particularly virulent, I’ve had him for almost a year now, and certainly more potent than the Caitiff and Kynval you get from a normal summons.”

“You can summon a Dremora permanently?” Runelde said, wonder in his voice.

“I’m a master summoner, my young friend,” Tundil said, laughter in his voice as he leered at Lorya. “I can do wonders with conjuration.”

“I look forward to your work,” Runelde said as he approached a shivering Lorya. She knew if she was forced to drink that potion she would bare the Dremora’s child. There would be no stopping it. She began backing away from the mages, but the sword at her back kept her from bolting. When Runelde was only a step away, his leering eyes dropped to her body. “Strip,” he said, smiling so wickedly at her that she swallowed the last of any moisture in her mouth.

With this last piece of information, she knew that at the end of a year from today she would birth this Dremora’s child. It was only then that it clicked in her brain how hopeless her situation was, how endless her misery would be. She was outnumbered, her magic was too weak to attack them all, and even if she managed to get a hold of a sword she didn’t know enough on how to use it to even be considered a threat.

With that in mind, she lifted her hands to the collar of her tunic and began to pull it over her head to reveal the top of her hips. Since she had never been given undergarments, and once the tunic was sufficiently raised, her hairless sex came into view. She continued to pull the garment off, over her flat stomach and further to reveal her D size breasts. Once her tunic was past her breasts, she pulled it down to slide over her head and fall to the floor. With that done she as fully unclothed in front of the men.

“You see, Tundil,” Runelde said as he lustfully eyed her naked body. “I’ve so broken her spirit that I think she enjoys what’s about to come. I’m almost envious of the Dremora, now.”

Tundil laughed in response as Lorya was led to the torture table where she allowed her hands to be secured by straps above her head. The guards were about just about to strap her legs down when Tundil spoke up.

“It might be prudent to leave her legs free for what’s about to come,” he said, eyeing the delicate folds of her sex. Runelde thought about it, then nodded an agreement to his guards. With that they stood and backed away, leaving Lorya bound. Runelde approached her, uncorking the vial of potion. He put the vial to her lips, tilting it back and watched as she drank it. Only when it was gone did he back away to stand with the others.

“Valkynaz, you will breed this woman,” Tundil commanded it, getting a grunt as the Dremora looked at Lorya.

Lorya watched in silent horror as the Dremora removed it’s armor. She was fascinated with its armor, the way the leather straps hidden in the seams bound it to its chest, the way it glowed red with an inner light. She wished she could inspect it, but knew she’d never get the chance as long as she was bound.

As it removed its last piece of armor, she couldn’t help but glance at its large member. It was as long as her forearm, with a breadth that seemed larger than any she had before. She couldn’t help but stare at it as the Dremora came to stand in front of her. Its rough hand lifted her golden hued legs and spread them, leaving her supported by only its rough hands and the leather binding her wrists.

She could feel it’s large member probe her delicate folds as it searched for the entrance to her delicate sex. Once it found it, it gave a violent shove with its hips and seated itself deep inside her small channel. Lorya gave a soft shriek at the invasion, whimpering at every movement inside her delicate sex. Lorya suddenly became aware that the Dremora’s long rod was prodding the entrance to her womb when the Dremora gave another thrust and she felt the arrow of agony shoot through her sex as the Dremora ripped its way into her womb.

Lorya screamed as it forced its way deeper, and started to thrash against her assailant as the pain overrode any pleasure she might have ever felt and her body tried to find a way to cope with the assault. Soon, the Dremora was pistoning himself in her sensitive channel, and the only thing Lorya found she could do was grunt, groan and moan as her body was assaulted.

As her body became accustomed to the pain, and she didn’t have to thrash so much as she accepted the Dremora’s large member in her body. When she did, the rough hands left her legs and began searching her sensitive body, running up her smooth, flat stomach to her delicate mounds. She whimpered, as the Dremora’s hands kneaded her fat filled mounds, the fingers pinching her flesh.

Lorya closed her eyes, trying to tune the assault out. She couldn’t though, as her body continued to tell her brain every action. She settled for staring at a spot on the ceiling, a patch of gray stone that was almost shiny like it contained some sort of polished silver. She stared at it, letting go of her physical torment as she forced her mind to consider why it was there.

Soon, Lorya felt the fiery burn as the Dremora shot its seed deep into her womb. She could do nothing but cry as the burning sensation coated her insides, seeping down towards her thighs. The Dremora stayed seated deep inside her as it continued to pump its burning seed into her. Once it quit shooting its seed, the Dremora pulled out. With nothing left to support her but her wrists, she lowered her legs to the small ledge built for her to stand on. She could feel the burning seed seep out of her sex and down her leg.

“Splendid, Tundil,” Runelde said as the Dremora put its armor back on. “This advancement will have me in a Dremora-Altmer hybrid this time next year.”

“Yes,” Tundil drawled, studying the red stain as it oozed down the woman’s thighs. “The potion works instantly, meaning she was already in heat when the Valkynaz mated her. With such a large portion of his seed in her, she’s most definitely been mated.”

“Good,” Runelde said, turning to leave as Tundil and the Dremora followed him. “Pelnaro, release her and take her back to her cell. I’ll check on her later.”

“Yes, sir,” Pelnaro said seriously, though he gave the woman tied to the torture bed a sneer. He released her binds, allowing her to slide into a pile of shame at the foot of the torture bed. His sneer deepened at the sight of the crying woman. How could this be expected to produce a near perfect warrior?

Shaking his head, he growled at the woman, “Get yourself dressed, you sniveling worm. Then meet me outside. And if I have to come back in here to get you, I’ll cut your hand off when we get to your cell!”

Lorya stayed on the floor for a moment after the guard left. She expected to find other guards when she looked up, but was surprised to find no one left. Wanting to at least cover her naked body, she scrambled over to her dress and hurriedly put it on. She looked around the area, taking in the collection books on the shelves. One bookcase near her caught her attention, its purple bound leather tomes telling her they were conjuration books.

She eyed the covers more closely, finally pulling one marked for an apprentice. It’s covered said Flame Atronach which caused tumblers in her brain to lock into place. If she could summon a Flame Atronach, she might be able to fight her way out. The problem was, such a summoning was beyond novices like her.

Glancing around, she saw several bottles against the far wall. Recognizing them for what they were, she pulled the spell book for conjuring a flame Atronach and went over to the far wall. She took the largest bottle of blue-green and purple brew, her limited alchemy knowledge telling her it was an elixir of extra magicka which would boost her magicka reserves for an hour.

A plan hatched in her brain. Setting the book down, she picked up the largest bottle and slid it under her dress and nestled it between her large breasts. Looking down, she smiled at seeing the bottle hidden in her breasts. Taking the book, she snuggled that under dress hiding it on her firm stomach. Using her arms, she pressed the book flat to her stomach.

With one last look, she smiled at the hidden treachery. With nothing left to do, she slowly walked out into the hall. The guards started to walk her back to her cell, one in front and Pelnaro behind her. She smiled as she walked back, making sure to frown as she walked into her cell. She went to her makeshift bed and knelt down, then covered herself up. She heard Pelnaro harrumph as the cell door closed, and listened to the cell doors close.

Once she was sure the guards were gone, she quickly took the spell book and magicka potion out from under her dress. She stashed the potion in the corner of her cell, hidden in the hay, then took the book to read by the cell door where the light was the best. Reading the book, she learned the secrets to summoning the atronach in question.

There was only one thing left to do, and she waited till after her final check-in to do it. Raising her hand, she summoned all the magicka she could while concentrating on the summoning. If she didn’t have the magicka, she could at least summon it once with the vial. If she could do it without the potion, she could summon as many as she needed to help her escape. They at least could handle the guards while she ran for it.

With a grunt of effort, she threw the purple spell to the floor, watching it coalesce into a flaming figure with a female like body. She examined the creature as it floated above the floor, noticing the flames seemed to pour off the body in waves. She gave it a few spoken commands, finally curling up on her bed and watching it as it stood guard at the cell door.

She went to bed, sleeping fitfully as she thought about the life now growing inside her. Part of her wanted to cut the life from her stomach, but another, the one that was currently winning the war in her brain, wanted to protect it. She knew that if she broke out of the prison, the Thalmor and the Aldmeri Dominion would hunt her down. That meant that she’d have to run far away, leave everything behind as she searched for a corner of Tamriel that didn’t have such a heavy handed control from her fellow elves.

The only thing she knew, would be to start living her life on the run. She’d have to leave her family behind, hoping that since they kidnapped her that they wouldn’t want to admit that she had escaped if she just disappeared.

As she closed her eyes, she knew regardless that tomorrow she would try to escape. Or she would die trying.


	3. Chapter 3

She slept fruitlessly, finally deciding it was a lost cause. She didn’t want to accidentally sleep too long and miss her best chance of escaping. She leaned herself against the cell while she sat on her makeshift bed, and thought of her plans. She knew she couldn’t go home as a given, the Thalmor would likely hunt her down and her parents would likely be harmed as they tried to arrest her. Her father would fight for her, but he’d only share in the blame. She couldn’t live with herself if that happened.

No, she knew she’d have to head far away from Summerset Isle. That meant she would never see her parents again. If she could, she’d send a messenger with a personal note to her father telling him what happened. A tear escaped her eye as she thought over her parents not knowing what will become of their daughter, but she comforted herself that at least they’d be safe.

Her mind wandered to her trip, as she pictured possible destinations. Elsweyr was definitely out, as the Aldmeri Dominion had a high presence there. She also hated the prospect of living in the desert with her fair skin, so she passed on Hammerfell as well. Cyrodiil was also a possibility, but if the Aldmeri Dominion had as much control as was rumored over the Empire, she wouldn’t be safe there if she were caught.

For that matter, any province of the Empire like High Rock was also out of the question and also Morrowind. She scoffed as she thought of the political map of Tamriel. The Dominion had most of the known map under their influence. In fact, only one brief rumor she had heard gave her hope.

She had heard a guard once say that Skyrim was in turmoil. A Nord by the name of Stormcloak refused to quit Talos worship and openly defied the Empire and Dominion with his belief of the Ninth Divine. That currently made Skyrim a potential war zone as the Empire was supposed to send more troops, and even Thalmor troops were rumored to be prepared to go and quell potential uprisings.

He couldn’t hope to stand against the combined might of the Empire and the Thalmor, but if it were just the Empire? Well, it was a fool’s hope. Maybe if she could travel the entire way without raising any alarms she could disappear into the dark corners of Skyrim.

Her mother loved gardening, spending hours each day in the plots around the house where she kept many different plants and she had helped in their cultivation from an early age so she knew the basics. She also knew from time spent earning gold as a young girl how to care for barnyard animals, so she’d have that in her favor as well.

Sighing, she pictured a life of her in some dark little cottage surrounded by plants. Where most people would have trouble surviving against the various monsters and dangerous animal life found in the wilds, as a novice conjurer she had an upper hand. She could summon help to defend herself from any threat, and as long as she stayed in the cottage at night, she could always summon a flame atronach in the morning to clear away the beasts.

With the idea in her mind, she thought about how to make the trek to Skyrim. It was unlikely that she would be able to journey there directly, and plus there was an ocean voyage to consider. She figured she could barter passage by being a cook, another small task she wasn’t unfamiliar with. If nothing else, maybe she could pass herself off as a common sailor if she didn’t have enough gold to buy passage.

First, though, was getting out of this cell. She felt the potion bottle hidden in the hay, deciding it was useful to sell if nothing else. Slipping it back between her plentiful breasts, the bottle was somewhat hidden. She got up and moved around, then frowned at sensing the bottle slip down a bit as if it would fall. Without an arm there to keep her tunic tight, the bottle wouldn’t stay on its own.

Eyeing the animal hide on which she sat, she ripped a piece of it off that was just long enough to wrap around her waist. Taking the spell book which she had used to learn to summon the atronach with, she slipped that under her tunic as well, then tied it tight with the piece of leather she had. Moving around again, she found it stayed right where wanted it to, and smiled.

Taking the bedroll, and ripping off another strip of hide before rolling it into a tight roll and tying it tight with the strip of leather and tying it over her neck and under her armpit. It kept the bedroll comfortably on her back, and was there if she needed it to sleep on. If she got that far. With nothing left to do, she waited for the sound of Pelnaro coming so she could make her escape.

As the sound of people coming down the hall came closer, Lorya was waiting for them. The standard practice for changing her slop bucket was that she would place it beside the door, then stand in the corner farthest from while the guard changed it with the clean one he carried in. She had it planned out that when he came in to change the bucket, she’d summon her flame atronach and start busting out of there.

She already had everything ready to go and her spell charged when they opened the dungeon’s door, and Pelnaro led the way in with another guard in tow. He sneered at her as he opened the door, letting it swing open as he stood back. The other guard entered, and the moment he turned and dropped the bucket, and was reaching to pick up the used one she pulled her hand from behind her back and released her summoning spell.

The guards didn’t even have time to react as the flame atronach materialized between them and started throwing fireballs. The guard in the cell was thrown so violently into the bars that Lorya was sure he was already dead. Her atronach moved on to Pelnaro, who had by now drawn his sword.

Pelnaro was smart enough to know he wasn’t good enough to take on the atronach alone, so he ran for the dungeon door. The atronach’s fireball caught him before he could make it through the door though, and he hit the door post with a solid thunk. Her atronach kept throwing fireballs at him, burning his flesh. It wasn’t until she drew the first guard’s sword and went to the door that her atronach started following her.

Heading through the fort, she came across a door which was guarded by two more guards. Her atronach started its attack, but these two guards weren’t taken by surprise like her first two victims. They both drew swords as she came into view, and though her atronach managed to knock one guard back, the other managed a solid blow that staggered the atronach a bit.

Lorya watched as her atronach staggered back before raising its hand and shooting a spell off in the guards face. She ran through the door they were guarding, and down the hall. She ran through the long hall and up the stairs, and was just reaching down to open the door when Runelde and Tundil opened it for her. Falling back to the railing, she charged her summoning spell and summoned a fresh atronach right in front of the men. Runelde caught the first blast from a fireball as he was about to summon his own creature.

Tundil wasn’t an offensive mage by any stretch of the definition, so he fell back and allowed his Valkynaz to charge the flame atronach. On it’s third fireball to Runelde’s face, the Valkynaz sank it’s greatsword into the atronach. Knowing her atronach was no match for the Dremora, she tried to run through the doorway but Tundil blocked her retreat.

“You are ours, missy,” he spat as the sound of battle continued behind her.

“I won’t be yours to breed as you see fit,” she screamed back, raising her sword. She wasn’t the best with the weapon, but Tundil backed away from it.

“I promise if you surrender now,” he said, trying to negotiate with her, “You won’t be hurt.”

Lorya doubted she’d be let off so easy. She had just proved she could, and would, escape if she got the chance. She was still thinking her options through when she felt the heat of her atronach exploding as the Valkynaz destroyed it. With no other choice, she raised her sword and charged the master summoner and brought the sword down on his chest as the thunking of the Valkynaz filled her ears as it charged her.

Her blade sank deep into Tundil just as the Valkynaz tackled both of them before rolling free of the pile it had created. Lorya raised herself to her knee, wrenching her blade free of the man’s chest. She and the Valkynaz locked eyes with the summoner gasping between them. She raised her blade as the Valkynaz charged again with its blade held high, then brought it down on Tundil’s neck to permanently sever it from his body.

“Not like this!” the Valkynaz roared as ribbons of purple formed around him. Soon, the ribbons enveloped it as it was pulled back into oblivion. Lorya breathed a sigh of relief at seeing the two mages dead. Once she caught her breath, she started again for the exit, her spell to summon another flame atronach charged in her hand.

She went down the hallway that Runelde and Tundil had come from, taking the first set of double doors she found, and walked right into Runelde’s lab. She was immediately repulsed by being back in the lab that she had been impregnated in, but the shelves of books on the wall drew her eye. She walked over to the carefully arranged display, and began pulling the various novice and apprentice level books from the shelf.

Soon though, she had a rather sizable stack of spell tomes from the various branches of magic. It was more than she could easily carry, but it was a certainty that if she were going to go on the run from the Aldmeri Dominion she would need to learn as many different spells as she could to defend herself. Wouldn’t this have ended a lot sooner if she could have summoned that flame atronach when she first got here?

She looked around the lab, finding a couple of satchels hanging on a peg by the door. She took both, going back and slipping all the spell tomes into one while the other hung loose at her other side. That one she would fill with food if she managed to find the kitchen before she found the front door. She made sure to note each spell book as she slipped it in; Soul Trap, Bound Sword, Summon Unbound Dremora, Firebolt, Lightning Bolt, Fire Rune, Fast Healing, Healing Hands, and Lesser Ward. An impressive collection, she thought.

Swinging her satchels around her neck and with stolen sword in hand, she left the lab gladly and vowed to never return. The hall outside was clear, and she turned to head deeper into unfamiliar territory, silently hoping that the exit or the kitchen was soon. She actually hoped to find the kitchen, that way she’d have supplies for her journey. She couldn’t let herself think too much of it at the moment, she needed to keep her mind focused so her conjuring spell would work properly as she navigated the dangerous halls.

Turning a corner, she found two more guards standing guard at a pair of doors. Releasing her spell, the flame atronach made short work of the guards, neither one reaching the atronach before dying. She pulled their swords, sticking them in the empty satchel with their blades sticking out behind her. It was only when she looked around that she noticed the hanging spices in a far room. She smiled at the find, knowing now she had a chance to avoid capture in a nearby town as she tried to get food.

With her atronach in tow, she entered the room to find two male cooks going about preparing the next meal. They were both frightened at seeing her, but made no other comment. As her atronach entered and raised its hand, she made a choice not to immediately kill the two cooks.

“Hold,” she said, causing the two cooks to scream. Lorya stepped forward, raising her sword at the two cooks. “I need food for my journey,” she told them and they scrambled to get her apples and tomatoes and other raw fruits and vegetables. Once she had it in her bag and sealed, another thought crossed her mind, gold. Voicing her demand, the two cooks quickly brought her a bag of gold with probably a hundred gold coins in it. With nothing else she needed from them, she turned for the exit where her atronach waited.

She glanced back, seeing the two cooks cowering in fear, then remembered why she was brought here. A stab of deep hatred burned her heart and without remorse she whispered, “Kill them” to her flame atronach. It then raised its flaming hand as the cooks screamed, their high pitched voices forever silenced as she left them to burn.

Walking back to the door the dead guards had been posted at, she opened it to find it was the exit. With nothing left to hold her back, she turned to the flame atronach and gave it one last order. “Kill anyone you find after I leave, and leave no one alive.” The atronach nodded its flaming head, and Lorya left the fortress, sprinting for the trees.

Once she was safely in the tree line, and the fortress fell out of sight, she slowed to a jog. The sticks and stones her feet found in the grass hurt as she jogged, eventually slowing her to a walk. She pressed on as fast as she could though, putting as many leagues between her and her tormentors as she could. It didn’t take long before she wished she had taken some armor along with the swords to sell. Her feet would feel better at least.

At dusk, she stopped and made a fire, using her fire spell to start the twigs and brush she gathered. After laying out her blanket, and feasting on a tomato, she read some of the other spell tomes she had gathered, learning how to conjure various things like how to throw firebolts, and lighting bolts, and set a fire rune. The offensive magic she considered useful, mainly because it allowed her to protect herself in a fight, and replaced her need for a bow and a supply of arrows.

The next morning, she packed up and continued on, finally stumbling on a road. Following that road, she kept on going, her long Elven ears alert for danger. When she finally found other people, they didn’t even look like a threat. The tallest, at almost seven and a half feet, was dressed in fur for warmth. Four others ranged from six and a half to seven feet, dressed similar to the tallest one, and they all carried swords, those theirs weren’t Elven quality and more likely steel or iron.

“Hey, pretty lady,” the tall one said as she got closer. “Welcome to our forest. Pay the toll or prepare yourself for a beating.”

She stopped, maybe ten feet away and eyed them. Three of the bandits were High Elf males, including the tallest, with another male that was a Wood Elf and a female Wood Elf. Both Wood Elves carried hunting bows with quivers of arrows on their backs while all five carried swords on their belts. They began to fan out in front of her, and she nervously looked from one to the other.

“How much toll?” she asked, not wanting to make waves. She didn’t need the attention.

“How about all the gold you’re carrying,” the tallest one said, fanning around her more. She soon lost sight of the female Wood Elf as she circled around, but Lorya just turned slightly to follow the tallest.

“I don’t have any gold,” she lied, glad her gold was hidden in the satchel. The tallest one sneered at her and was about to protest when she continued on. “I’ll give you one of these swords, though. Elven quality craftsmanship.”

“How about I take them from your cold dead hand!” he roared as he charged. Lorya extended her hand and threw a fireball in his face, the explosive fireball taking his face off and felling him.

An arrow sailed past Lorya’s ear, reminding her that there were threats all around her. Without hesitation, she summoned her flaming atronach, the flaming creature spamming fireballs at her attackers. A glance around told her that everyone was now trying to fight her atronach, who had already killed two more, one being the other male Wood Elf. The female Wood Elf was shooting arrows at it as fast as she could nock them to the string of her hunting bow.

Charging a firebolt spell in each hand, she threw the overpowered spell at the last archer whose attention was diverted as she stuck an arrow in her flame atronach. The spell hit her full on, breaking her intense concentration which allowed her atronach to set her ablaze with a flurry of fireball spells.

With the last of the serious opposition dealt with, her Flame Atronach had little problem killing the last opposition. When he fell, Lorya took stock of her surroundings, she decided to take their weapons as well, even though they weren’t as good a stock as the ones she had taken from the Thalmor guards. She also pillaged through their camp, finding more steel arrows that she placed in the quiver taken from the female Wood Elf and another bag of gold she stored with what she already had.

After stepping on a sharp rock that made her stumble, she glanced back to the dead Wood Elf. She went over to strip the boots off but took a second look at the Elf’s size. She was similar in build to herself, so she then began to strip the body as well, taking the archer’s armor off. Once she had the body completely stripped, she then slipped her own soiled tunic off, throwing it into the fire to let the garment burn.

The first thing she put on were the leggings, which she found comfortable to wear. Next was the top, which she tightened around her chest to keep it still and support her bosom. Next were the boots, which she was thankful to get. She slung her food satchel on her right hip, while the satchel containing her books went on her left. The swords went in the tops of the pouches with the higher quality Elven swords on her left and the steel swords on her right. Next she took the quiver and put that on her back with easy access to the arrows with her dominant right hand. The bow she stashed in the quiver, more to keep her hands free in case she needed to cast a spell to get out of a tight spot.

Dressed and loaded down with supplies and weapons, she moved on down the road with her Flame Atronach following behind her until it disappeared when the magicka holding it to that plane of existence ran out. She kept going though, making the leagues pass now that her feet were shod.

When it got dark, she moved off the road a bit and made herself a camp. Once she had her fire going, she pulled out some more of the spell books and made herself comfortable. Before going to bed, she read through the Bound Sword spell and the Lesser Ward spell, figuring the former would be helpful if she ever needed a sword in a fight.

It would also allow her to sell all the swords in her collection, giving her a larger amount of gold to run with. She also figured as she settled in to sleep that if she had nothing on her but food, people might figure she was nothing more than a peasant girl until they saw her perform magic. Since magic was highly structured within Altmer society, they wouldn’t figure a common little girl like her would be capable.

She went to sleep with those thoughts, allowing herself the peacefulness of dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

With the dawn, Lorya broke her little camp and headed out back down the road soon coming up on a small farm. It was quiet in the early dawn, the farm showing no signs of life, not even farm animals. She wrote it off as abandoned without even slowing down, not letting the discovery get to her spirit. The next farmhouse was similar, but there were farm animals about telling her that either the animals had recently returned home for shelter or the owners were elsewhere.

After two more such houses, she began to pass travelers on the road. She kept her head down and didn’t make eye contact, hoping they didn’t challenge her right to the road. She was thankful when they did, but soon she saw a pair coming up the road that made her stomach drop; a pair of Thalmor soldiers. She kept her head down and trudged on, but the moment she got close she heard the ring of metal as both guards drew their swords.

“Hold!” one shouted, pointing his sword at her while the other began to circle around her. “Where did you come by these swords?”

“Bandits,” she replied cooly, having already decided to say she got the swords from the bandits she had killed. “They accosted me about three leagues up the road.”

“How did you survive then?” one asked her and Lorya smiled. She used her recently learned Bound Sword spell to pull a mystic Daedric sword from the planes of Oblivion and brandished it in front of the soldier.

“Handy spell,” the other said. “Who taught you the mystic arts?”

“My father,” she said, turning her head to face the other soldier. “He said I should learn to protect myself from threats. He also taught me this,” she said, then summoned a Flame Atronach which made the soldier she was looking at back up.

“A worthy threat,” the other soldier said, making her face forward. She could tell the soldiers were frowning, having a conversation with a glance, but she wasn’t sure how it would end.

In the end, the soldier she was facing finally sheathed his sword. “Stay out of trouble, mage,” he said as he continued on.

Once they were gone, she breathed a sigh of relief as she began to trudge down the road again. Thoughts of maybe going home raced through her brain but she had to squish them. There was no going home for her. Even if her parents welcomed her home again, Thalmor agents who might have been in on the research of Runelde would kill her or re-kidnap her to keep her quiet or continue the experiment.

She then began to think of the child now growing within her, and wondered if maybe something could be done to stop it. That led her to thinking about the conversation she would have to have with whomever was involved, and that only led her to the thought that even if someone out there were willing to help her end it, she couldn’t risk the chance of someone not sympathetic finding out she was pregnant with other than another Altmer man’s child. It was one of the most taboo things an Altmer woman could ever do was pollute the sacred bloodline.

No, she was going to have to go through the pregnancy alone and that would have to be far from Summerset Isle. At noon, just as she was thinking of stopping for lunch when she saw the multiple smoke columns rising into the sky to indicate a small town. She quickened her pace, her hunger forgotten as she got close enough to actually see the buildings.

Entering town, she glanced around and then headed for the black smith, deciding to get rid of the weaponry first. The closest blacksmith shop was run by a well muscled Altmer who was busy swinging his hammer on an axe head he was forging.

“What do you want?” he asked when he finally dunked the axe head into some water to cool it.

“I have some swords to sell that I took from some bandits,” she told him, pulling the Elven swords from where she had tucked them into her bag.

“Twenty five a piece for these finer Elven swords,” he said as he examined it. “But only four for the others.”

“Deal,” Lorya said as she handed the swords over. She had decided to keep the bow and quiver for herself, as it was a good cover for a traveling girl because it was easy used for hunting small game.

The smith then began counting out the coins for her, all ninety five of them, and she tucked the coins into her bag. Lorya then moved on to a booth in the market square where she spent several coins refilling her bag of food. Another stall and she managed to get rid of the blue-green bottle of magicka potion for an additional fifteen pieces of gold.

She began to walk out of town when she spied a wagon being loaded with supplies. She felt suddenly envious of the man, but continued out of town. Now that she was much lighter, she soon began to jog, chewing up the leagues as the day wound on.

With nothing left on her mind, it wandered again to how she would get to Skyrim. She still didn’t know where she was in Summerset Isle, but figured if she were able to get to a coastal city she could bargain for passage on a ship. It was a hope she stayed latched on to as she jogged on.

She had to. To protect her own life, and subsequently the life of her unborn child.

She eventually forced herself to think of something else, latching on to the home she would build for herself in Skyrim. A small one room building would probably be the first step. It would protect her from the elements and give her a home. From there she could build on to it as she was able, probably after building a garden of her own to feed her with fresh fruits and vegetables.

There, her child would be born. If she got far enough off the beaten path with her farm, they might even live in peace. She was strong enough to face any monster or beast that arrived on her doorstep, lessons she would pass on to her child. She would train the coming babe in every magical lesson she knew and could learn. Hopefully, spellbooks were more easily acquired in Skyrim than in the Summerset Isle where learning the mystic arts was so controlled.

As the day came to a close, she chose a sight hidden in the trees and setup her camp. She knew the days would be long on her journey, but she had the advantage of anonymity. Her face wasn’t known, neither was her name. It gave her the biggest advantage, she figured, as if any guards who knew to capture her wouldn’t know what to look for, and magical knowledge itself wasn’t something that they could test for.

As she pulled out the book for learning the Summon Unbound Dremora spell, she figured it’s most useful aspect was to cause confusion. Also, if she could summon it from hiding or in a place she was about to leave or couldn’t be gotten to by her own summons, it would kill and cause havoc to untold numbers of people. Such havoc would allow her to escape if the Dominion or Thalmor got close to nabbing her, or tried to kill her, and then she could run again.

After finishing the book and learning the spell, she pulled out the Soul Trap spellbook, and set herself to learning it as well. It was mainly useful for help in enchanting by locking victims souls in a soul stone, which since she wouldn’t be using physical weapons would be limited to enchanting armor and jewelry. Still helpful for increasing her stamina and health pools or to give her a better chance with her other skills.

The one book she wanted to get her hands on, but hadn’t found was a Cojuration book to summon a Dremora Lord. She knew from her experience in the mystic arts that was what Runelde had used to have her raped multiple times over the last several months. It would be even more formidable than an unbound one because then she could summon it in close quarters for protection, not just chaos.

As she lay on her bedroll to go to sleep, she briefly wondered what it would feel like to summon a Dremora and have it under her control. Atronach’s were one thing, they were elementals who didn’t correspond to any known way of thinking. They did simply what their summoners commanded or what they wanted.

Dremora knew and didn’t care. They saw only the difference between strength and weakness, and though the Dremora who first raped her called her weak, she now had multiple kills to her credit. She was getting stronger every moment she ran, but she had to wonder at what cost.

It was a thought that plagued her as she drifted off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

  


Anonymity, Lorya realized, was a blessing. For the next few days, Lorya jogged along the roads of Summerset Isle, but sans the fine quality swords from earlier, no patrol paid her more than a cursory examination before letting her pass. A young woman carrying only a hunting bow and a quiver of arrows was of little threat to the Dominion, after all.

Lorya began to wonder if Runelde was even acting in the interests of the Dominion, but in the end, she knew she couldn’t take that chance. Rumors had swirled around for years of rogue agents carrying out bizarre experiments, but it left a person to wonder if they were rogue agents because they got caught, or if the Dominion truly hated their experiments. Breeding a Dremora/Altmer hybrid like her child was enough to incense any Altmer as the bloodline would become polluted, but for a superior fighter would the Thalmor risk it?

If she could answer it, she might risk staying in Summerset Isle, but as she topped the ridge to look out on the coastal port, she knew her destination was Skyrim and the turmoil the country was in. She just had to get there.

Moving off the ridge and towards the town, she again felt her anonymity when few, if any, paid her more than a cursory glance as she passed. As such, she was able to make an arrow’s shot straight for the docks without having to duck any guards. Though the streets were noisy and packed, she made good time and by the time the sun was high in the sky.

Looking out on the docks and the ships though, left her wondering how to tell which ones were headed where. In the end, she decided the only way to tell was to ask those that were loading supplies where they were headed and if it were possible for her to barter passage.

Searching along the dock, she decided to try the closest ship that was loading cargo. It was crewed by Imperials, their swarthy skin glistening with sweat as they moved heavy crates. She watched the men for several minutes, finally finding one that seemed to be the boss of the group.

Walking up the ramp, she kept an eye on him and the large Imperial greatsword on his back. She was confident in her ability to summon help if need be, but that would just bring guards down on them, with questions. While she was confident they would take her side against Imperials, there was no telling if the ship’s captain had friends in high places that might get her in trouble. If too many questions were asked about her origins, they might talk to Thalmor agents who knew she had been used in an experiment and either return her to captivity or kill her.

No, she needed him to comply with her desire to get to Cyrodiil, home of the Imperials. With any luck, the ship was already headed there and it would just be a matter of bartering passage. Without luck, it would be headed for another country and wouldn’t divert for her.

Still, as she approached she tried to keep herself from appearing too eager. If she were too eager the captain might take advantage of her thinking she was a runaway or a criminal. Both were technically true, but she wanted to land in Skyrim with as much gold as possible to help in her escape.

“What do we have here?” the Imperial said in a loud voice.

“A potential passenger,” Lorya replied. “Where are you headed and how much?”

“Solitude in Skyrim,” was his reply. “And I demand a thousand gold for...safe...passage.”

Lorya’s heart jumped with joy at hearing his destination was already Skyrim, but the idea of a thousand gold stumped her. All she had was four hundred gold coin.

“Two hundred,” she countered.

“Two hundred?” he asked her. Lorya nodded, but the Imperial sneered. “And what do you offer for the other eight hundred coin?”

“I can assist you as a cook or sailor,” Lorya told him.

“That might buy you a hundred coin,” he grunted. “That still leaves seven hundred coin.”

“And what do you think I have to offer to make up for that?” Lorya demanded of him.

“You can warm my bed,” he said with a lascivious grin.

“Absolutely not,” she countered.

“Then I wonder if you’d survive me calling the guards?” he threatened her. Lorya stiffened at that, and the captain saw it. “So, you’d rather me not call the guards, after all.”

“Fine, I’ll call the guards,” she finally decided. “Guards!”

The captain blanched at her bellow, and a pair of gilded Altmer guards were soon headed their way with swords drawn. Lorya knew they would likely side with her as an Altmer unless the man had real connections that were widely known, just because she was an Altmer herself.

“Problem here?” one of the guards, a female Altmer said.

“This Imperial is threatening me,” Lorya told her.

“That’s a lie!” the captain roared, his hand moving to rest on his sword. The move didn’t escape the guard’s notice, and she pressed her green-hued sword against the man’s chest.

“I’d be more careful in reaching for a weapon,” the guard told him.

“She wants to barter passage,” the captain spat out. “But she hasn’t the coin for the trip.”

“A thousand coin for a one way trip?” Lorya countered.

“A thousand?” the guard reiterated. Lorya nodded that she had it correct, and the guard shook her head.

“How do you justify the cost of a thousand coin for a hundred coin trip?” the guard demanded of him.

“There’s food, loss of space,” the captain sputtered but the guard shook her head.

“I’m taking you to the citadel,” the guard told him. The other guard raised his sword as well as the captain’s face snarled in rage.

“To arms!” he called as he drew he sword, knowing the female guard’s sword aside as he drew. His crew drew arms as well, and Lorya knew the fight was on, and she had to act fast. Casting a summoning spell for the fire atronach, she slipped behind some nearby crates as it advanced on the captain and crew.

When she looked back over the edge of the crates, the captain was already a crispy corpse and the crew had already thrown its weapons down to fight the flames her atronach had caused. She whistled for it to come to her, which it did, and the Altmer guards moved aside to let it pass.

Lorya stood from where she was hiding, watching as the last of the flames were stamped out. More guards had arrived, some carrying bows already nocked and ready, and the crew looked defeated as they saw the gathering crowd of fighters.

“Debark now, or get ready to die!” a Thalmor agent called as he arrived and took charge of the scene. The varied races that made up the crew began to slink off in ones and twos, and a pair of guards marched each one off to prison.

When the last of the crew was marched off, the original pair of guards stood with the Thalmor agent who looked at Lorya intently for a moment. Lorya moved her hand behind her back, and prepared to summon an unbound Dremora Lord. When the Thalmor agent turned to look at her, Lorya was tempted to just summon it already and run for cover.

“So you’re the one who summoned the flame atronach?” he demanded to know.

“Yes, sir,” Lorya responded nervously.

“Powerful magic for a novice,” he commended her. “Instructed by your parents?”

“My father, Arnellor,” Lorya told him.

“Arnellor?” he drawled. “He instructed you well. He should take on students.”

“Thank you, sir,” Lorya said, dissipating her spell as she no longer felt like he was going to attack her.

“What’s the most powerful spell you know?” he asked her.

“I can summon an unbound Dremora Lord,” she said nervously, not sure if she should divulge that information or not.

“Thankfully you didn’t summon one,” the agent told her. “All this because you were threatened?”

“He wanted to try and pollute our bloodline,” Lorya specified to the agent who snarled in disgust. “I said no and called the guards.”

“You did well,” he said, dismissing the whole thing. “Where were you headed?”

“I was thinking of heading towards Cyrodiil,” Lorya informed him, not wanting to tell him of her real plans. “My father is a good teacher, but he has too little time to properly train me. I was wanting to head to the Mage’s Guild in the Imperial City of Cyrodiil to train further.”

“The Psijic order?” he asked her and Lorya nodded. “A highly prized position indeed.”

“It’s why I’m going,” she chuckled softly.

“I know the captain of a ship, Fa’ir of the Greedy Kitten, who can transport you if you want,” the agent told her. “He also won’t charge you more than a hundred coin.”

“Thank you,” Lorya told him.

“He’s currently docked about ten ships that way,” the agent pointed out, then turned back to the guards. “Back to your patrols!”

Lorya moved on, deciding that if she weren’t being asked to hang around, the agent had no further interest in her. He also hadn’t asked her name, so couldn’t identify her except by the claim of a father. Even if someone were to piece it together, they would assume she was heading for Cyrodiil with no mention of Skyrim. In fact, the only person who knew of her desire to travel to Skyrim was now dead.

Moving down the ships, she found one marked with the sign of the Greedy Kitten and ascended the plank. Like the previous ship, this one was a mixed race crew. The one giving the orders was a Khajiit with dark striped fur, and Lorya was almost afraid to approach him. He seemed to notice her though, then turned.

“Fa’ir smells something new and interesting, yes?” he said, seeming to articulate his words carefully.

“I seek passage,” Lorya told him. “The Thalmor agent in charge told me you’d be willing to ferry me for a hundred coin.”

“You speak of Sornil,” the Khajiit spoke. “This one has done business with the Thalmor in the past. It was...unpleasant.”

“Can you transport me to say Skyrim or Cyrodiil?”

“This ship does indeed intend to transport itself to Skyrim,” the Khajiit said. “Greedy Kitten will make dock in Windhelm, next. For one hundred coin, you may sleep on the deck beneath the stars.”

“Deal,” Lorya told him. She counted out the coin, then handed it over to the captain.

“Safe travels, yes,” the captain said as Lorya moved forward on the deck. Soon the captain had his cargo aboard and they set sail, soon leaving the Somerset Isle behind them.

Lorya felt more at ease as they traveled, but her gut told her something was wrong. She had seen Fa’ir talking with the agent, and had feigned looking into the water as she surreptitiously kept an eye on them. She knew she was the target of their conversation when the agent pointed towards her, but she only hoped it was something innocuous about helping her.

There was only one way of finding out though, and that was to keep an eye on him and the crew until she made her destination. That still left people knowing where she ended up, but if no one knew who she really was, how much harm could that do to her?

She finally figured she would just have to wait and see what happens, planning for the worst, while praying for the best.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

  


Days passed while Lorya was at sea on mostly calm waters. After the sixth day, Lorya found she should have been far more thankful for the calm ride when a storm started to pitch the ship around.

Lorya found it disconcerting as the day faded and the storm started to rage around them. In the dark of the night, the ship would pitch and roll and all she could do was hang on to the rail and empty the contents of her stomach over the side.

“This one thinks you should go below!” the captain yelled to her. Lorya was in no mood to argue, and feeling sick, followed the captain down into the ship.

“Thank you,” she told him.

“You are wet,” he said, noticing her dripping clothes. “Fa’ir has clothes if you wish to change.”

“Thank you,” Lorya said, then followed the captain into a large room with a bed. He pulled out a blue set of robes that would fit.

“If you don’t mind?” Lorya hinted to the captain as she began to loosen the strings of her top in preparation for removing it.

“This one doesn’t mind see a furless one naked at all,” the captain teased her. Lorya huffed in indignation, but the chance for dry clothes was strong and she finally pulled her top off. She then undid her boots, taking them off and then removing her leggings as well.

Standing in front of the captain in her skin made her uncomfortable, so she quickly pulled the robes over her head so she could hide her body. The moment her view of the captain was blocked by the robe, she felt herself get body checked and felt something slash over her bare belly. She shoved the slashing form off her by flashing fire from both her hands, which got a yowl of surprise from the captain, and she shed the robes to guage her wounds.

“What have you done?” she gasped, seeing her shredded belly and her guts that were spilling out.

“This one’s job,” the captain hissed. Lorya felt her strength fail her, and she cast her healing spell in a last ditch effort to save herself. She felt some of her strength return, but kept her eyes on the captain as he laid his ear’s back as he got ready to pounce.

“The agent at the docks?” she said, piecing it together. “I knew you were talking about me.”

“You were supposed to die,” the captain confirmed. “Fa’ir will make sure of it.”

Time seemed to slow as Fa’ir gathered himself to pounce. Lorya knew she wouldn’t survive another attack, so she poured magical flame from both her hands into a fiery fountain of death that consumed the captain. The captain’s yowl of pain and anguish was loud in the small cabin, and Lorya kept them flowing until the captain fell silent.

As her eyes readjusted to the dim light after so much bright light, she saw the charred remains of the captain on the floor. She sagged against the wall, gathering her magicka before she tried to cast her healing spell again. She also saw the mess her belly was in, and the blood that still flowed from it. Panic filled her, intensifying as fists began pounding on the door. Seconds later, the door flew open, and a large Orc stood there with a war axe in hand.

“What have you done to the captain?!” he demanded to know. He took a step inside the door, then saw the charred remains. He roared as he smashed his axe against the wall, then turned hate filled eyes on Lorya.

Lorya knew she was going to die. She was too weak to fight, could no longer dodge the swings and had half her gut hanging out. On top of that, she had an angry Orc over her ready to tear her limb from limb. Nothing left to lose, and wanting to take them all with her, she cast one last summoning spell just as the Orc started his swing.

The purple orb revealed the Dremora Lord in time to take the swing meant for her, but the helmeted Dremora only leaned to the side with the blow. Lorya was still conscious enough to see the Dremora wind up his swing that nearly cleaved the Orc in two before tossing the pieces back through the door on the follow through, just as more crew arrived.

The Dremora charged with a warcry, and Lorya’s view was blocked as the ship pitched once more, shutting the door and the carnage out. She was weak, and tried one last time to cast her healing spell, as she lay on the deck. She felt some of the wounds nit themselves together, but her magicka fell far short of a full healing.

Resigning herself to her death, she drifted off into Oblivion, listening to the screams of the crew as they were slaughtered by her summons.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

  


Lorya felt cold, but could hear the water around her. The stream, she thought lazily as she seemed to float almost in oblivion. She was sure she was floating in the cool water that flowed by her family’s home, and opened her eyes to see the bright light of the sky overhead.

A chicken landed on her bare stomach, and she only briefly wondered at her nude state before deciding it didn’t matter. When the chicken began to scratch at her skin, she saw briefly her organs and cast a healing spell to heal the damage.

“Restoration can heal any wound,” her father had told her after cutting her hand with a knife. “But, if you wait too long, your strength will wane and your magicka will fade. Keep yourself healed, and know your limits.”

“But how do I know when to heal myself?” she had asked him as she read the spell for basic healing.

“Never ask when,” her father had told her. “A wounded mage is weak. Keep yourself strong in the face of your enemies, and they will never overthrow you.”

“So always,” she said, healing the wound on her hand herself.

“Good,” her father said as she flexed the repaired flesh and felt her body drain of magicka. She was only just learning to tap into the power of magic, so she knew she wouldn’t be able to heal large wounds.

But that had been years ago, she reminded herself. Her father had taken the tougher roads in her learning, making sure she knew how to build on each successive layer of knowledge. If only he had been home more, she might have been further along in her training and a better battle mage, but he was constantly called away.

“Heal myself,” she repeated, even if she was only in her mind. The healing spell had become instinctual almost, as she had constantly repaired her wounds from climbing and playing as a kid, and considered herself better than the ones that had to run home to a parent or a healer to be healed of their injuries.

So it was that she realized she was dying on the deck of a ship and came fully awake. The moment the wooden ceiling came into view, she cast her healing spell with both hand, keeping the process going until the drain of her magicka ceased. Looking down at her stomach, it was still a bloody mess, but no gashes or scars permeated her skin.

Slowly getting to her feet, she looked around the cabin, finding the remains of the captain where she’d cooked him alive. Outside the cabin it looked like a war zone, with deep gashes and crew members with missing limbs. She saw no signs of life or signs the bodies had been disturbed, so she figured her Dremora Lord had slain everyone.

Sighing, she went back into the captain’s cabin and used his basin to clean the dried blood off. Once clean, she dressed in her Altmer clothes again and began searching the cabin. Her first major find was a set of jewelry, a silver ring with a ruby in it, and a silver necklace with a sapphire pendent. Picking them up, she noticed the etching on each was different, the ring carrying the archaic symbols signifying it’s ability to resist fire while the necklace was enchanted to resist cold. It was an old enchanter’s trick, as the enchantment helped prevent the wearer from having heat or cold problems, useful for extreme environments.

She took both, slipping them on rather than storing them, then went back to searching, but that was about the only things she found of note. She moved out of the cabin, stepping around the bodies of the dead as she searched on. She took several hundred more gold coins from various cabins, a copper moonstone circlet, an Elven bow and arrow set, and a glass sword. The coins she stashed in her bag but the circlet she put on her brow where it belonged. She left her own hunting bow and arrows behind as she took the Elven quality set and stashed the glass sword around her waist.

Going up on the main deck, she could feel the cold and was glad for the necklace’s protection. She could also see snow covered land in the distance as the sun began to set, but doubted she could swim that far without drowning. Looking around the deck, she could see more evidence of a fight with strewn corpses, each bearing the marks of a large greatsword cleaving and slashing across their bodies.

Looking around, she found the ship’s main steering wheel and went over to it, guiding the ship towards the shore. She could also see rocks in her way, but that didn’t matter to her, all she wanted was to get theh ship closer. If the ship were never found, that was to her benefit as well.

In fact, she thought as the ship got closer, it was even better. Summoning a fire atronach, she had it descend into the ship and begin incinerating to its hearts content, making smoke rise into the darkening sky as the ship caught fire. She was close enough to see a tent of some type on the shore when the ship hit the rocks then lifted partly out of the water. Figuring that was as far as the ship would go, she used a rope to swing over the side and slide down to the rocks, then began the swim for shore.

Emerging from the water onto dry land, she felt like it was home, like a piece that was missing was finally put back inside her. Since she came out of the water near the tent, she went to it to see if there was anyone there, but found it empty of people. There were two bedrolls inside, and red flowers strewn all over the place. An Amulet of Mara was between the two bedrolls, and Lorya got the gist of what it was, a wan smile on her face.

She figured two lovers, probably just married, had come here to join themselves together as the goddess Mara intended. How long they had been here wasn’t clear, but the tent wasn’t damaged by time and the flowers had yet to wilt. Leaving the tent, she saw the footprints that went into the water, a large and small set, but no returning set.

She moved on down the beach, not wanting to disturb the couple if they should return. She eventually hid herself in a small cave, using driftwood lit by magical flame to make a campfire. Eating a tomato,she noticed the burning ship eventually faded from sight as well, its glow fading as the fire died out.

Tired, and not entirely sure of what country she was in, she went to sleep wondering what the next day would bring.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

  


Lorya came aware of the Altmer men around her, their nudeness alarming her. She tried to turn and flee, only then becoming aware that she was bound to a torture table, and was completely nude. She squirmed tried to break free as Pelnaro forced her legs apart with surprising strength, his manhood entering her as she cried in despair.

Then, she came awake next to her fire, realizing it was a bad dream as her lungs panted for air. Pelnaro was dead, as well as any that had been naked in that room as they’d all been guards for Runelde. The vividness of the dream was alarming, but she told herself that it was just nerves from being so far from home.

Laying back down, she soon drifted off to sleep, this time finding herself in Runelde’s lab. She was wearing the simple cloth tunic she had worn for months, and she spun to see Runelde and Tundil eyeing her.

“She’s a pathetic specimen,” Tundil said.

“Wretched,” Runelde agreed. “But, she was all we could get. Capturing women for experimentation is difficult. This one was dumb enough to go off alone, so my men captured her.”

“No,” Lorya said, raising her hands. “You two are dead!”

“Delusional,” Tundil said, shaking his head. “Does she actually know magic?”

“Pelnaro says so,” Runelde informed him. “Likes to heat the bars of her cell even though she’s been informed she can’t escape that way.”

“I see,” Tundil said. “Valkynaz, if you would please?”

Strong hands grabbed Lorya from behind before lifting her off the ground. The Dremora then turned and slammed her down on a desk, knocking the wind from her and holding her there as the Altmer mages loomed closer.

“Remove her hands,” Tundil said as they stood over her. “We’ll have the castle’s blacksmith attach a utensil in the stumps so she can eat with.”

“NO!” Lorya screamed as the Dremora shifted over her, putting a hand on her back to keep her pinned as the sound of metal sliding on metal filled the lab. She continued to scream and buck, reaching for the Dremora’s hand as it suddenly shifted and snatched her arm and plunked it back on the desk. The other hand flashed down, and a dagger with a red glowing hilt sliced through her wrist.

Lorya screamed as pain raced up her arm, but when the Dremora released her and she pulled her arm away, she was even more horrified to see her hand stay on the desk. Her screams again woke her from sleep, and with a still black sky overhead, had no idea how much time had passed. She looked to her fire, finding it burned out.

“Has to be almost morning,” Lorya said aloud as she looked around. Figuring dawn was an hour away, and praying it was so, she left her hiding spot and began walking down the beach, hoping some kind of road or path made itself available.

Streaks of red were filling the morning sky behind her when she stumbled upon a large town built on the beach of a lagoon. People were already milling around in the predawn light, but none of them seemed happy or particularly motivated. In fact as Lorya approached one, the Nord woman looked downright hostile.

“Excuse me,” Lorya said as she approached the woman. “I was on a ship that hit some rocks and sank not far from here. Can you tell me where I am?”

“Dawnstar,” was the Nord woman’s reply. “It’s the capitol of the Pale in Skyrim. Our Jarl is a Nord man named Skald.”

“Thank you,” Lorya told the woman who just turned silently away. Lorya was glad she was in Skyrim at least, and visions of fading into a quiet corner with a farm was large in her mind.

Moving on down the beach, she saw more people and they all seemed to have the same tired look about them. It was stunning thought, but she wondered if they were all recovering from some sort of plague as she saw a priest turn and walk up a side street. She couldn’t see the amulet nor identify the priest, but priests of Mara were known to be healers. Running after the Dunmer, she soon caught up to him.

“Blessings of Mara upon you, my child,” he said, turning at her call.

“Is there some sort of plague here?” she asked him.

“In a sense, yes,” he told her. “My name is Erandur, and as a priest of Mara am honorbound to help these people with their problem.”

“What problem is that?” Lorya asked him.

“The town suffers from terrible nightmares,” he said shaking his head.

“What?” Lorya said questioningly. Could her troubles with sleep the night before be something more?

“The Daedric Prince Vaermina is entering our realm,” he said, chilling her to the bone. “I’ve been searching for those brave enough to brave the ruins of a nearby fort, but none are willing.”

“Nearby fort?” she questioned him.

“It was once the home of Daedric worshipers,” he told her. “These priests of Vaermina possess a Daedric artifact called the Skull of Corruption, and if I don’t perform the proper spell and banish the artifact, these dreams will worsen.”

“What can be worse than the horrors I experienced last night,” Lorya groused.

“How about when dream becomes reality?” Erandur countered. “The Skull has that ability, and left unchecked, may allow Vaermina to enter our realm.”

“By the eight,” Lorya breathed. “And no one is taking this seriously?”

“Nords are...wary…of magic and those that practice it,” Erandur told her. “This also blinds them to the dangers some magic can have if left unchecked.”

“But a Daedric prince entering Nirn...”

“Would be disastrous,” Erandur confirmed.

“How many you have to face against them?” Lorya asked him.

“So far, just myself,” the Dunmer grumbled.

“And these...Nords...” Lorya spat in anger, “Will just idle themselves by whilst they die?”

“As I said, they don’t trust magic,” he told her. Lorya kicked at a pebble, trying to stem her anger. Magic was the life blood of the Altmer, who lived and breathed by it. What you could and couldn’t do was directed by how well you could learn to use magic. Sighing, Lorya made up her mind.

“Can you spare the time long enough for me to see a blacksmith?” she asked him.

“Certainly,” he said brightly. “I take it you’ll assist me?”

“If I don’t, I’ll likely die anyway,” she compromised. “I just want to get some armor to give me a chance to survive after I cast my summons.”

“An adept, are we?”

“More or less,” she told him. “I can summon a flame atronach with no problem and cast several destruction spells.”

“That will be handy,” he told her. “Rustleif is the local blacksmith, his forge is this way.”

Erandur led her back to the beach, then turned to continue down the beach. He led her down a few houses to where one house had a large open area set up to one side. Lorya could see a forge and anvil setup, along with a hide rack to stretch hides from skinned animals. A Redguard woman squatted in front of the hide rack, stretching a hide from a wolf as she and Erandur ascended the steps.

“Who’s your friend?” she asked the priest.

“I am Lorya,” she told the Redguard.

“Seren,” the Redguard told her. “Something wrong with your fancy sword?”

“I need armor,” Lorya told her.

“Ah,” the Redguard said, smiling before shouting. “Rustleif! Fire up the forge! You have work!”

A large Nord came out of the house dressed in a red shirt and apron, immediately sizing Lorya up. His eyes fell briefly on the sword she carried, getting an appreciative nod.

“Armor, right?” he said in a gruff voice.

“Right,” Lorya confirmed for him.

“I can work you one in steel in a few hours,” he told her. Lorya looked to Erandur who nodded, and Lorya repeated the nod to Rustleif.

“That will be fine,” she told him.

“Go ahead and store your stuff over there,” Rustleif said as he began to stoke the fire from the forge. “This won’t take long.”

Lorya was actually surprised at how fast it went. Seren measured Lorya and readied a leather vest the metal would be attached to, which would keep the chestpiece Rustlief was making from chafing Lorya’s skin. The steel that Rustlief pounded out was thick, and was often held up to Lorya for fitting purposes.

When the main armor was done, Rustlief moved on to greaves. These Lorya found were attached to a large belt like contraption that would protect her middle while giving her some movement. Boots were next, mostly leather with a large slab of steel over her shins and foot, with similar styles of protection on the gauntlets. The last thing Rustlief made was a helmet, which like the rest was given to Seren to line with leather. Seren worked each piece, fitting each to Lorya personally to give her the best protection possible, then gathered up the individual armor pieces.

“Follow me,” she told Lorya, and Lorya followed her into the house. “Take off what you have and slip the armor on, I’ll get it snugged down.”

“How am I supposed to take it off?” Lorya asked as she loosed her top. Seren laughed at that, but her smile was warm.

“Nords don’t take their armor off, ever,” finally said. “They’ll eat in it, sleep in it, die in it. At this point, I’m almost sure it’s some cultural taboo for a warrior to remove it lest they go to Sovngarde unprepared to battle Tsun unprepared.”

“Tsun?” Lorya asked as she stripped off her clothes.

“He guards the whalebone bridge to the Hall of Valor,” Seren clarified for her. “To pass, one must engage Tsun in combat and be found worthy. Those that are found worthy are welcomed in Shor’s halls.”

Lorya only nodded, as she sat the last of her clothing aside and picked up the chestpiece.

“Lift it over your head, and let it settle into place,” Seren told her. Lorya complied, finding the fit tight, and needed some readjustment to her bosom to get everything comfortable. Once it was, though, she found her bosom locked into place and unwilling to move.

“Interesting,” she said, noting the feeling. She continued to dress in the steel armor, soon finding herself full outfitted as Seren held the helmet out to her. Lorya put it on, finding that it didn’t impede her vision much, if at all. Some sounds were muted, as her ears were covered, but with her ears covered no longer had to worry about frostbite so much. She was actually very warm.

Stepping back outside, she picked up her satchels and slung them over her shoulder and tucked her glass sword into her belt, then slung her bow and arrows on her back as well. It was all getting heavy, but since most of the weight was on her body and not in like a bag, was able to keep it balanced fairly well.

“Anything else?” Erandur asked her.

“Not sure I can carry anything else,” Lorya grumbled. Her hands were still open though, so she didn’t doubt her ability to cast spells, and with some armor she was more likely to survive a stray arrow.

Rustlief laughed at that, long and loud, but it was in good humor. “You’ll get used to the weight, in time.”

“How much time?” Lorya asked him.

“Best way is to take a walk,” Rustlief said.

“And a walk we shall take,” Erandur said. “The sooner we get to old Fort Dawnstar, the sooner we can end the nightmares plaguing Dawnstar.”

“I haven’t had a good night’s rest in nigh on two weeks,” Seren said, rubbing at her tummy. “It can’t be good for the baby.”

Erandur cast some sort of spell, waving it in front of Seren’s belly, then smiled at the woman. “Your child is fine, for now,” he told her. “Hopefully, we’ll soon have this matter ended and your child will continue to be safe.”

“Mara be praised,” Seren said, the relief visible on her face.

“If there’s nothing else?” Erandur asked. Lorya shook her head, and the pair turned and headed down the steps. Erandur led her out of town, then pointed to a distant tower. “That’s old Fort Dawnstar. We should be able to get there in a few hours.”

“Lead the way,” Lorya said. Together the Dunmer and Altmer headed out of town, and though Erandur asked, none offered to lend their help.

They were going to be on their own.


End file.
